CHAPTER XVI — Celestial Seas Unveiled! The Executive Bows
1407 Words
The Shen ancestral manor’s Golden Chalice Pavilion, its grand reception hall, once a bastion of dynastic gravitas, now thrummed with an asphyxiating tension. Towering crystal chandeliers, dimmed to a spectral glow, cast long shadows that deepened the corners' gloom. The air, usually redolent with rare agarwood’s icy serenity, now choked on the metallic tang of strung nerves.
The Shen elite assembled, a tableau of suppressed dread. Shen Yaoyang, swathed in bespoke finery, projected a veneer of effusive welcome, yet sweat beaded beneath his collar, eyes darting nervously towards the immense, brass-bound oak doors. Shen Qingxue occupied a wingback chair, a vision in moonlit silk, posture rigid as carved ice. Beneath her glacial composure, a tempest raged—suspicion, indignation, volcanic humiliation barely contained. Her gaze, sharp as honed flint, periodically skewered the figure huddled in the farthest recess.
There, Shen Qingwu sat swallowed by shadow, dwarfed by a towering areca palm. Clad in faded grey cotton and a threadbare cardigan, the bruise at her temple a livid stain in the half-light. She hunched into the stiff upholstery, fingers knotted white in her lap, a creature of pure trepidation trapped in a predator’s den. The crushing weight of expectation, the glacial hatred radiating from her sister—each breath was a labor.
The collective gaze of the Shen clan, a mixture of avarice, anxiety, and searing envy, remained riveted on the sealed doors. The silence thickened, broken only by the HVAC’s death-rattle hum.
*Thud. Thud. Thud.*
Three measured knocks—tolling bells on the soul.
All eyes snapped. Yaoyang surged forward, smile plastered wide. Qingxue’s knuckles whitened.
The doors parted.
An arctic current swept in—deep-sea pressure made manifest.
Two monoliths in immaculate black entered first—mirrored sunglasses, tailored suits straining over corded muscle. Their presence was a wall, freezing the air, scanning the room with the indifference of gods surveying ants.
Then, Liu Zhenguo.
Tianhai Group’s Executive Assistant to the Chairman.
Fiftyish, spare-framed, clad in unassuming charcoal cashmere cut by unseen masters. Hair precise, revealing a broad, intelligent brow. Gold-rimmed spectacles framed eyes like undisturbed tarns—deep, unreadable. He moved with unhurried assurance, an aura of absolute authority radiating naturally, eclipsing the Shen’s manufactured grandeur.
His gaze swept Yaoyang, a curt nod offered—acknowledging furniture. It drifted over the opulent decor, assessing with the detachment of a valuer appraising a foreclosed estate.
“Director Liu! An honor! Profound honor gracing our humble abode!” Yaoyang gushed, hand extended, voice trembling.
Liu Zhenguo’s glance was fleeting, dismissive. “Mr. Shen.” The greeting was ice. His attention shifted to the assembled Shens.
Yaoyang’s hand hung suspended, smile petrified. Humiliation burned his cheeks as he retracted it, sweat slicking his brow.
Liu’s gaze traversed the room. Qingxue’s sculpted glacial features earned no flicker. The sycophantic core members—nothing.
Then—
His focus pierced the gloom, bypassing the areca palm’s fronds, pinning the cowering figure in the corner.
Shen Qingwu.
Contact.
*ZAP!—*
A psychic jolt—raw, primal—electrocuted Qingwu! She convulsed! Heart hammered against ribs! An invisible tsunami of glacial, primordial force slammed down, crushing her into the chair! Paralyzed!
Blindness amplified perception. Where Liu stood, her inner void birthed a titan—a primordial monolith woven from cosmic edicts! Chains of cold, celestial law pulsed with soul-crushing order! Absolute power crystallized! Wealth as world-anchoring will!
Before this colossus, Shen pride—power, riches, status—evaporated like frost at noon. Insignificant! Dust!
Deeper terror seized her!
Within the monolith’s core—
A point!
Minuscule! Yet blinding! Pure! Radiating the universe’s fundamental truths—enough to shatter mortal minds!
Prismatic Chalcedony Radiance!
Entombed! Shackled by countless ethereal chains! Suppressed!
Yet… its imprisoned life-creating essence pulsed… a resonance that stirred the icy dead-zone of her Nine Yin Meridian core!
This… was Tianhai’s might? The leviathan looming over Shen?
Qingwu trembled violently, pallor leaching her face. The bruise throbbed. Lips bled under bitten teeth. Icy dread drowned her.
Yet—
In the billionth fraction of contact—
Within Liu Zhenguo’s fathomless eyes—
A ripple!
Subtle! Stark!
Not the sycophancy Yaoyang craved!
Not the scrutiny Qingxue feared!
But…
Awe bordering on reverence!
Stirrings of profound agitation!
A flicker… of near-fanatic zeal?!
Like a pilgrim beholding a divine relic!
Awe fit for cosmic will!
Agitation of touching hallowed ground!
Zeal… of a martyr glimpsing ultimate truth!
Gone in a micro-flash! Qingxue’s sharp eyes caught only a tremor, then stillness.
But Qingwu’s amplified senses—branded by searing iron!
Bewilderment warred with terror. Why?!
“Ms. Shen Qingwu?” Liu’s voice cleaved the silence. Steady, yet imbued with an inexplicable… gentleness? Gravity?
The name detonated!
Yaoyang’s grin froze, then blazed triumphant! Confirmation!
Qingxue’s nails gouged her palms! That deferential “Ms.”—a venomous barb! Why her?!
The clan gaped, envy corrosive.
Qingwu flinched, head jerking up blindly. Lips parted, soundless.
Liu Zhenguo ignored the room. A subtle gesture to his aide, Chen Feng.
Chen Feng stepped forward, unlocking a titanium case. He extracted a document—elegant, embossed with Tianhai’s sigil—and presented it towards Qingwu.
“Ms. Shen Qingwu,” Liu’s voice resonated, “the preliminary agreement for Tianhai Group’s ‘Life Oasis’ strategic alliance with Shen Pharmaceuticals. Per Group mandate, you are designated Sole Steward. Please review.”
*Detonation!*
Sole Steward! Her review?! Bypassing Yaoyang! Overruling Qingxue! Handing galactic stakes to the blind girl?!
Not preference. Anointment! Elevating Qingwu above the entire Shen dynasty!
Yaoyang’s elation curdled—ecstasy, shock, ignominy tangled.
Qingxue erupted from her seat! Waxen, spectral! Eyes—venom-tipped ice-daggers—hate, disbelief, scalding shame! WHY?!
Qingwu froze. Terror blanked her mind. Blind, how to respond? Trembling fingers reached out, fumbling towards the unseen document.
*“HALT!”*
Qingxue’s command—scalpel on glass!
She strode forward, a blizzard of fury, interposing herself between Qingwu and Liu. Her gaze, twin rapiers, impaled him.
“Director Liu!” Her voice, compressed fury. “This pact concerns Shen Pharmaceuticals’ core survival! Entrusting it to one blind to commerce, ignorant of governance? Farce! Betrayal of shareholders! Employees!”
Spine steel-rod straight, a bamboo defying the gale, she asserted final dignity: “I am CEO Shen Qingxue! All pivotal accords pass through me! Otherwise—unacceptable!”
Her stare, desperate, defiant, locked on Liu: “Tianhai selects partners based on… vaporous whims? Not merit? Expertise?!”
Silence. Arctic.
Yaoyang paled, frantic. The clan held its breath.
Liu Zhenguo’s expression remained glacial. He regarded Qingxue with detached pity… and faint scorn.
He withdrew the document from Qingwu’s vicinity, ignoring Qingxue’s challenge. His gaze returned to the corner—to Qingwu, rigid, ghost-pale.
Then—
Under the stupefied gaze of the Shen dynasty—
This architect of trillion-yuan empires—
This deity from the financial firmament—
Pivoted.
Lowered.
Executed a shallow, yet bone-deep obeisance—
—Towards the shabby, bruised, sightless girl in the corner!
“Ms. Shen Qingwu,” Liu’s voice remained level, yet thrummed with immutable, cosmic finality. “Tianhai’s decisions require no justification. We adjudicate outcomes.”
He straightened, his gaze sweeping Qingxue’s bloodless, shattered visage. Pronouncement delivered:
“This covenant recognizes Ms. Shen Qingwu alone.”
“Her signature—ratification.”
“Her refusal… or any coercion…”
Liu’s eyes sharpened—daggers! An avalanche of invisible pressure crushed the hall! Throats constricted!
“—Tianhai severs all intent! Reserves rights to pursue Shen Pharmaceuticals for consequential damages!”
*Silence.*
Absolute. Vacuum-sealed.
Qingxue stood petrified—soul-emptied. Her face, a mask of obliterated pride, faith’s ruin. Her stare—a cauldron of venom, envy, incomprehension—swung between Liu and the suddenly haloed Qingwu.
Yaoyang swayed, near collapse. The clan blanched.
Only Qingwu—
As Liu’s decree echoed—
Within her terror-frozen soulscape—
A wisp—
Subtle! Yet bedrock-solid!
An essence—ancient, nurturing, vast as the nurturing earth—
Unfurled!
An intangible bastion—gentle yet adamant—encircled her!
Instantly!
Liu’s monolith-crushing aura—
Qingxue’s arctic-hatred glare—
Were severed!
The soul-suffocating vise… lifted.
Bewilderment lingered.
Fear remained.
Yet… a sliver of… sanctuary?
Her head tilted slightly.
Sightless eyes…
Seemed to pierce the areca’s fronds…
“Gazing” towards the hall’s deepest, darkest alcove.
There.
Qin Hao.
Primeval bedrock.
Leaned against the wall.
Shadow-merged.
Unseen.
- Writer
